


Tangled Destinies

by calenlily



Category: Black Jewels - Bishop
Genre: Abandoned Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-04-16
Updated: 2007-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calenlily/pseuds/calenlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witch is Kaeleer's Heart. But what of Terreille? After the Purge, a strong young Queen may bring hope of healing to the Realm of Light. (Abandoned 4/07)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Seer

The witch walked in the night when few dared to venture out. A harsh, cold wind howled around her, tearing down the shriveled husks of the last few leaves of autumn and whipping through her tangled black hair. She adjusted her shawl to wrap tighter around her, but the move was casual, more an afterthought than truly a response to the chill.

The land here was scarred, as the people were. Scarred by the taint that was spreading everywhere. But here, of all places, was there hope of healing. If the taint was ever gone, healing would come here. But the chances of that... No matter, that was another subject entirely, another’s place.

The road she walked was old, paving stones worn into the dusty ground, but she saw it broad and lined with new white stone. Only a muddy trickle flowed under the crumbling bridge ahead, but she saw the bridge restored and standing proud over the strength of a rushing river. The castle that overlooked this rocky valley, once home to the Queens of this land but now long abandoned for their glittering but corrupted cities, was in her mind warm and open, with bright flares of witchlight in the torch brackets shining over the road by the entryway.

This she saw, through clouded eyes that watched everything and nothing. For she was a Black Widow, though one broken and wandering lost in the dreamscapes of the Twisted Kingdom. She saw, through her Craft, the land not as it was now, but a vision of how it had been... and as it could be again. As it would be when the new Queen came, the one who could heal the land and soul of this Territory, perhaps this whole Realm. Not Witch, who had already come (though she was still young), but another gifted witch. She would come.

Tersa disappeared on the Winds, leaving as swiftly as she had arrived, on to another place, another vision, another twisted dream. She walked a strange and lonely road that was uniquely hers. Silent and unnoticed, she moved on, standing as unknown witness to the bitter hopes of that age, and seeing the dreams that would come to fruition in time.


	2. Chapter One: The Ice Queen

_14 years later_

Sandele Hall was a large manor standing a little apart from the city of Anathe, capital of the small western territory of Navael, and it was here that Queen Selena’s court was set up.

A small girl slipped through the halls, almost completely silent and unnoticed. Growing up on the fringes of the court, she had long ago learned to be as unobtrusive as possible. Though unspoken, there were two main rules for her: stay out of people’s way, and never, under any circumstances, bother the Queen. She was a quiet child, self-reliant and independent, but unwanted and starved of affection.

Looking up, Maeriel realized that she had unthinkingly wandered away from where she’d been meaning to go. Mentally berating herself for absentmindedness, she quickly surveyed her surroundings to determine where she’d ended up. It took her a moment; she usually avoided these inner corridors. And for a good reason - she was dangerously close to the Queen’s chambers.

She realized the import of that statement a minute later with a jolt as a door at the end of the hall cracked open.

_Hell’s Fire,_ she thought, trying to shrink back into the walls as a tall woman, pale as if all color and life were leeched from her, swept imperiously out in front of her. Maeriel started to turn away, but found herself staring into the hard gray eyes of the woman she had hated and loved for all her life. Queen Selena’s gaze seemed to pierce straight through her, boring into her soul and leaving it cracked and aching.

Unexpectedly hurt and afraid, her pride and courage deserted her. “Lady,” she whispered breathlessly, dropped a respectful curtsy, and back in her room, Maeriel curled up in the window overlooking the gardens and tried to sort out her troubled thoughts. She desperately tried to fight the sting of rejection she felt at the ice in the eyes so like her own, at Lady Selena’s disdain. She knew the Queen was a cold woman, a hard woman, but couldn’t help wishing for a little kindness.

Hurt soon turned to bitter resentment. _Would it kill the woman to show her own daughter a little warmth? Is she so incapable of emotion? Probably,_ Maeriel thought.

\-----

Lady Selena was a Queen whose Summer-Sky Jewels were powerful enough to make her a Territory Queen in a Terreille where so many of the strongest had been eliminated, but not dark enough to be a threat to the High Priestess of Hayll. Though not one of Dorothea’s pets, she was not a good Queen either. Emotionally cold from a young age, she ruled callously and without care for her people. She was best known for throwing Navael into a series of largely pointless wars with the surrounding Territories.

Araen was a sixth circle guard in her court. He had a deeply ingrained sense of honor. It was a quality that, though admirable, was more likely to get a man killed than anything else. As a Warlord who only wore the Tiger’s Eye Jewels, he would have been essentially a nobody, but for a force of personality that made him stand out.

Tired of unproductive conflicts, he walked away at last - and went to confront the Queen. The act was either extremely brave, extremely stupid, or, most likely, both.

Something about Araen intrigued the normally icy Queen, teased at some distant memory of hers. They carried on a brief affair. But eventually Selena recognized that she was becoming dependent on him. Feeling this made her somehow weaker, made her lesser, she turned against him, and he found out just how quickly a man could fall from the Queen’s favor. In the end, she ordered him executed for desertion.

That’s the story that was whispered in the halls and the streets. That’s what was said in years after. And, despite growing up in the court, that’s all Maeriel was ever able to find out about her parents.

As for Maeriel herself, she was, at 12, the very image of her mother, a living reminder of what the Queen would rather not remember. She had the same fair skin, though not quite so ghostly pale, the same piercing grey eyes, only just slightly warmer, the same delicate figure and narrow face. But her hair, while nearly as long and straight, was dark as Selena’s was light. She had the honor and dignity of a young Queen, for so she was, and she wore the Opal as her Birthright Jewel, darker than any in her family. And she knew, more than anything else, that she didn’t belong where she was.

\-----

Maeriel woke around midnight, shivering, to realize that she had fallen asleep on the window seat. As she sleepily hauled herself up and into bed, she realized that it was not just the cold breeze from the open window that was making her shiver. There was an aura of great power about, waves of rich dark power rising up from deep below and spreading through the land. A storm was coming.

***  
  
Unable to sleep, Maeriel was still watching the storm some hours later. Finally, she pulled the thickest blanket from her bed, wrapped it around herself, and crept back to the window seat. She pressed her cheek against the slightly fogged glass, that thin layer all that separated her from the elements. The panes were cold, but it was not unpleasant; the sensation was crisp and somewhat soothing. It reminded her of her life: never anything without at least a touch of bitterness. She looked out on the world she almost thought the force of the storm would tear apart, and for a moment she couldn’t help wishing it would, so her surroundings would match the hollowness she felt inside. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped down the window, matching the drops of pounding rain that washed over the other side of the pane.

Actually she felt a curious affinity to the storm. Despite being able to sense its destructive force, she found it soothing somehow. She would’ve liked to open the window and go out into the garden, to let the rain pour over her, but she knew she’d get in trouble for coming in wet. _That is, I will if anyone notices. Half the times no one even seems to notice I’m here,_ she thought bitterly. She suddenly wondered when she’d become so bitter, so cynical and jaded. _Since I realized no one cares about me. Since I noticed it’s like I’ve got something missing inside. Since I noticed I’m being stifled here and I can’t take it much longer. – And I’m not going anywhere useful with that line of thought._ Wishing ineffectually for some way out, she wiped at her cheeks, slumped down in the window seat, and, sometime in the hours before dawn, eventually cried herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selena and Araen's backstory is inspired by the song _The Queen and the Soldier_ by Suzanne Vega.


	3. Chapter Two: Tamara's Web

When Tamara woke that morning, something felt very different. But what? Feeling distinctly uneasy, she dragged herself out of bed and started getting dressed. She spent a leisurely morning at her house a little ways out of Anathe, and by midday was feeling much more cheerful. She shook off the odd feeling, dismissing it as paranoia. _Stop it. You’re just jumping at shadows again,_ she told herself sternly, and she almost believed it.

Until she went into town.

She dropped from the Opal Wind to the landing web in a square near the center of the city. The area was usually busy at all hours of the day, but on this bright spring day it was abnormally quiet. Tamara’s concerns came rushing back. She looked around, curious as to what could be different. One quick glance left her gasping. Instinctively wrapping herself in a protective shield, she returned to the Winds and fled home.

She collapsed in a chair in her kitchen, and sent out one panicked word on a psychic thread, distaff to spear. _“Devin!”_

For one desperate moment, she feared there would be no response. Then came her brother’s worried reply, _“Tamara? Are you all right?”_

She twisted a strand of her shoulder-length dark hair around her fingers. _“Not really.”_

_“Where are you?”_

_“At home.”_

The link was severed abruptly. She slid down in her chair and squeezed her eyes shut, willing everything to just go away for a few minutes.

Devin walked in. Catching his familiar psychic scent, Tamara looked up.

“What happened?” he demanded, his warm brown eyes blazing with protective fury.

She sighed. _One thing that will never change about the world,_ she thought, not for the first time, _is the overprotectiveness of older brothers._ Still, just now she was grateful for it.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she began to speak, “I went into the city this morning. I don’t know what happened. And….” She faltered, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“And?” Devin gently prompted.

“It was just this great slaughter. So many people, just dead. No sign of what happened. No marks, but that doesn’t mean anything. Just dead. Every time I close my eyes, I can’t help but see them.” She didn’t know when she’d started crying, but by this point she was sobbing into Devin’s shoulder. She rushed on, not sure she’d be able to continue if she stopped. “All these b-blank faces, staring up at m-me….”

She was breaking down completely, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. She fell silent. For several long minutes she just stood there, letting him hold her.

“Well,” Devin suggested eventually, “why don’t you try weaving? You might be able to understand some of this then. I’m afraid I can’t offer any insight.”

Tamara considered for a moment. There was something she _could_ do. She was a natural Black Widow; maybe she could see something if she wove a Tangled Web. Something to explain what she’d found. Maybe then she’d be able to understand and possibly accept it. Maybe, just maybe, then she wouldn’t feel so helpless and afraid.

“You’re right,” she murmured. “I think I’ll do that.”

“Okay. I’ll stay here for a while, in case you need me. Want me to make you a cup of tea?” he asked.

“Oh, thanks. That would be wonderful. I’d better get busy,” she said, but still she made no move to get up. Finally she released him and retreated into the back room, where she kept her workshop. She pulled out a large wooden frame, and began to weave her Tangled Web.

It took quite some time before the completed web lay before her. She made the mental shift effortlessly, slipping into the dreamscape. She looked intently at the crisscrossing threads, seeing them not with her eyes but with her inner senses. She did not know how long she walked the paths of visions, but she returned to the physical world grim-faced. This was more complicated than she’d expected, and far more important.

Letting out a deep sigh, she returned to the main room.

Devin poked his head out of the kitchen, and handed her a steaming mug.

“Here,” he said, “I’ll join you in just a minute, and then you are going to eat.”

She smiled slightly in spite of herself, and groaned, “Devin! I’m a mature adult, you know. I _can_ take care of myself.”

“I’m not so sure of that. You’re female,” he said dismissively.

She gave him a death glare, but he continued without seeming to notice. “Besides, if I know you, you haven’t eaten at all today.”

She flushed. He was right, damn him. “Okay, that’s true. But that doesn’t mean you have to cook for me. Just stop fussing. Next thing I know, you’ll be trying to clean my house. Hell’s Fire, Devin, you’re not a servant!”

“I know,” he replied with infuriating calmness. “But you can’t stop me.”

“Fine,” Tamara muttered. It was pointless to argue with him. She sipped her tea, attempting to ignore his smug look as he sat down on the other side of the table and slid a plate over towards her.

They ate in silence. Finally, as they were finishing their meal, Devin asked casually, “So, did you see anything interesting?”

She closed her eyes, and her expression turned somber. The images washed over her once more: the web with chips of Ebony and its inconceivably powerful weaver, the wave of darkness, the devastated cities throughout the Realm, the angry survivors, the future of the Realm balanced on a knife edge, and the child. Above all, the child. Clues to the past, hints at the future explanations and warnings, all jumbled together. She opened her eyes and had to make an effort to focus on the physical world around her and her brother sitting in front of her.

“It’s bigger than I thought,” she began. “And it’s going to touch me – us – closely. You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? Of the Queen of Ebon Askavi?”

“Something about there being a powerful Queen at the Keep, yes,” Devin replied slowly. “Why?”

“It’s true. I saw her, in my vision. She was trying to stop a war between the Realms, to stop a taint in the Blood. That storm last night wasn’t any natural storm. That’s why it was so powerful, but it didn’t hurt the land. What I saw was a Sister’s craft.”

Devin let out a long, low whistle. “I didn’t even know that was possible. So you’re saying it was the storm that killed all those people?”

“No, the storm was a side effect of the power released. The spell itself had to have been much more subtle and focused. It’s beyond my skill to really even understand how it worked.”

“Oh. And this spell got rid of all the bastards around?” There was both bitterness and hope in Devin’s question. Having had to live with the persecution of the Hourglass, both of them had firsthand experience of the tainting of the Blood.

“Those who were tainted are either dead or broken, but that doesn’t always equal those who were jerks. But that’s where there’s a problem. Just getting rid of people doesn’t make everything okay. Something like three-quarters of the people around suddenly have no more than basic Craft, or are gone altogether. That’s going to create a mess. People are going to be confused, people are going to be mad, people are going to try to take advantage of the chaos to try to get away with anything and everything. I’ve seen it, Devin. There will be trouble,” Tamara explained.

Devin scowled, “So why can’t this oh-so-special Queen person just sort it all out?”

Tamara shot him an exasperated look. “Because it can’t always be someone else’s problem! It has to be up to Terreille to heal Terreille, don’t you understand? This is a second chance; no more, no less.”

“Okay, I get it! Mother Night, you don’t need to go ballistic on me. I’m just saying, I don’t see where we fit into this. It’s not like _we_ did anything wrong,” Devin said cautiously.

“But we’re the ones who have the power to change things,” she said emphatically. “We’re players in this because we’re the one who can actually do something about it…. There’s a child out there, an orphan now. One who’s going to be important, who I have to find, have to help.”

“Well, at least there’s something straightforward here. Do whatever you have to. You know I’ll do anything I can to help you,” he said supportively.

“Thanks,” Tamara smiled. Then she sighed. “I have to go. I just know life’s about to get a lot more complicated.”


End file.
